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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168411">Take Heed, Dear Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/danpuff/pseuds/danpuff'>danpuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Because I can that's why, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Creepy, Dark, F/F, Genderswap, Holly Potter - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Literally everyone - Freeform, One Shot, Weird Plot Shit, Why?, and others - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:42:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,637</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/danpuff/pseuds/danpuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Are you willing to die for the one you love? Are you willing to kill for them?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Severus Snape, other - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Take Heed, Dear Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For her fifteenth birthday, Holly Potter receives gifts from friends. Cakes and candies and books and letters. Only one arrives without a note. It is a small bronze box engraved with runes and decorated with garnet chips. It is beautiful and ominous, and Holly sits in bed with it for a long time. </p><p>Fingertips trace the shape of runes, thumb brushing across the stones. There is a sense of <i>knowing</i> deep inside. She could not have said what the box contained before opening it, but once she sees the broken wands and newspaper clipping, she is not surprised. </p><p>She can hear the snapping of the wands in her head. She hears the echo of her own screams. Holly blinks rapidly to dispel the images that have haunted her dreams for weeks. </p><p>Difficult, with familiar eyes scowling up at her.</p><p>Almost she can taste the blood in her mouth, smell the rotting flesh, hear the bubbling of a cauldron. Her fingers tremble as she takes the clipping and unfolds it.</p><p>Bethany Crouch, Jr., Irina Karkaroff, and Petra Pettigrew are wanted for kidnapping her. They fled the scene of the crime when Holly was rescued, the <i>Prophet</i> reports, and have not been seen since. This was the story Snape fed the Order, and Holly did not dispute it. She had no desire to recount the night’s events. </p><p>Bad enough reliving Cecilia Diggory’s death, and Voldemort’s return. Bad enough to remember Armide Moody taking her from the castle, and the familiar face of her professor shifting into that of Crouch. </p><p>There is a twitch in her cheek, and Holly touches it. She swallows, expecting soreness that has long since faded. It has been weeks since she screamed herself hoarse beneath the Cruciatus. Weeks since her muscles twitched and jerked in the aftershocks. </p><p>Holly closes and locks the box and places it under her pillow.</p>
<hr/><p>Holly does not like the box, exactly. It is a sick, cruel reminder of that night. By day the box’s presence haunts her, wherever she has hidden it. She questions her decision to keep it. Imagines dropping it into a bin. Imagines handing it over to Alana Dumbledore or the Weasleys, and telling them the truth. </p><p>It is only in the early hours of morning, when she wakes from the nightmares, that Holly reaches beneath her pillow to touch the cool metal, and is comforted.</p>
<hr/><p>The events do not change Snape’s behavior towards her. All year she belittles and taunts, docks points and offers detention. Worse are Occlumency lessons; Snape is harsher without an audience. The professor probes into her mind, exploring every humiliation and horror. And she is cruel.</p><p>Snape never targets that night, though Holly thinks about it often. The silver knife slicing flesh, the red spurt of blood, black robes draped over Holly’s shoulders. The darkness of the dungeon Snape Apparated them to. The glow of a chartreuse potion. Holly sitting on a wooden chair, trembling beneath borrowed robes, watching as Snape fed arms and legs and heads and torsos into the cauldron. Her blood-soaked shirt went last. </p><p>Holly could smell their flesh rotting in the cauldron. She had watched the calmness of her professor as she crossed the room to wash up in a sink. White face and neck and arms streaked with blood. Holly had closed her eyes, letting the sound of rushing water sooth her frayed nerves. </p><p>The way Snape sneers at her, tears her down, Holly can understand. It is the face of a woman who could so easily slash throats and dismember bodies and dissolve them in a potion. </p><p>Yet something had changed that night, something Holly can’t quite put her finger on. It is different enough to reconcile the memory of fingers carding through her black curls, and a quiet voice assuring her that she is safe and that everything will be okay. A shift in the dark aura, unseen, but felt.</p>
<hr/><p>The change is most apparent when Holly is laying on the dungeon floor panting. Snape towers over her, mocking her for being so powerless against Muggles. The tone is derisive, and hatred swarms in the dark eyes, but it is not herself Holly fears for.</p>
<hr/><p>It is the same look and the same fear when Snape holds her after class. When she’s standing beside Snape’s desk as cool fingers brush across the back of her hand, over <i>I must not tell lies</i>. Holly does not know what she would say, if she could speak. Snape just holds her hand, staring down at the words, stroking them over and over. </p><p>Snape never says a word, only drops her hand as students begin to queue outside. Holly grabs her bag and runs.</p>
<hr/><p>Holly chalks the dreams up to stress, with OWLS upcoming and ongoing DA meetings and the endless drama of her existence. Dreams of the dungeons, and her bare skin on the cool stone, and warm skin against hers. Dreams of thin lips trailing down her body, and her hands digging into the greasy hair. </p><p>Snape calls her a “silly little slut” when she sees, and Holly heatedly retorts that she is an “ugly murderous cunt” before storming off, embarrassed and hurt.</p>
<hr/><p>The dreams worsen when Holly glimpses Snape’s memories - awful memories of childhood bullies, and Holly’s parents. Snape calls her all sorts of names, then. Holly’s never seen her so unhinged, not even when she cut down three Death Eaters. She demands that Holly leave, but Holly doesn’t. Snape tries to throw her bodily from the room, but Holly manages to close the door with her foot, and Snape presses her against it. </p><p>For several long minutes, Snape pins her to the door by the front of her robes, breathing heavily against her face, glowering down at her. Holly’s heart races in her chest, and she wonders if Snape will strangle her and dispose of her body in a cauldron. Then she wonders if Snape will kiss her, because she’s so close, really. Sharing her air. Holly licks her lips and black eyes drop to the motion. Linger there. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Holly whispers. </p><p>Snape releases her, then. Sits at her desk and ignores Holly until she leaves. </p><p>And she dreams of walls at her back and Snape’s hands around her throat. She dreams of teeth and nails. She dreams of kissing and biting, of caresses and bruises. Of a voice, soft velvet in her ear, calling her <i>”sweet”</i> and <i>”slut”</i> and <i>”arrogant”</i> and <i>”beautiful”</i>.</p>
<hr/><p>When she finds the newspaper and three white pansies in her bed two nights later, Holly is not sure if they’re meant as a peace offering or a threat. The Dursleys found dead in their home of arsenic poisoning. Three white pansies from her uncle’s garden, preserved with a charm. Holly places the flowers and the clipping in the box with the wands and she holds the box against her chest as she cries herself to sleep.</p><p>Guilt. And relief. And sorrow. And gratitude.</p>
<hr/><p>The dreams do not stop even then. Nor does Snape’s general disdain. But when Holly cries in Occlumency over memories of Privet Drive, Snape does not laugh. Does not make any comments at all. And when Holly impulsively hugs her, thin arms wrap around her and hold her close. Chin on her head, hands on her back, heart pounding beneath her ear - because Snape is a human, is alive, is real. Holly cries again and Snape strokes her hair and doesn’t say a word.</p>
<hr/><p>Holly turns sixteen at Grimmauld Place. Raucous festivities liven up the grim atmosphere, though Holly remains unsettled all day. Robin and Hercule stick by her side, playing games and telling jokes while the Order convenes. And when the meeting breaks, Mr. Weasley brings out a chocolate cake slathered in icing and sparkling sprinkles. </p><p>When Holly blows out her candles, she wishes, <i>Don’t let her get caught</i>.</p><p>And while everyone laughs and eats, Holly chases Snape to the door. She looks around quickly, to be sure they are alone, before kissing the woman on the cheek. </p><p>“You are an idiot,” Snape says, and the blankness of her voice is more telling than anything. </p><p>“Yes,” Holly agrees. </p><p>Snape leaves and Holly returns to her guests to open presents. And she thinks of the gift she woke up to bright and early. A newspaper clipping of <i>”a gruesome crime scene”</i> and a severed tongue in a box, the words <i>I must not tell lies</i> carved into it.</p>
<hr/><p>On the first of September, Horatia Slughorn is announced as the new potions master, with Severine Snape taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. There is a gallop of fear in Holly’s chest, as the Great Hall explodes in confused, agitated whispers. Holly seeks out Snape’s gaze and finds it already on her. <i>But the position’s jinxed,</i> Holly thinks loudly, hoping Snape will hear, hoping that she won’t. </p><p>Holly hopes Snape sees when Slughorn smiles at her, sees the glimmer of greed in gooseberry eyes. And she hopes that she doesn’t. Because Snape is dangerous, and in danger; and Slughorn is harmless, surely, even as a shiver of trepidation rolls down her spine.</p>
<hr/><p>Harmless, the hand on her lower back. Harmless the way Slughorn leans in just a little too close to peer into her cauldron. Harmless the breath on her neck and face. Harmless the pats on her hand and shoulder. Harmless the way Slughorn looks her up and down. </p><p>Her classmates envy her. Especially Hercule, so used to being the top of every class. Holly wishes he were less offended and more observant. </p><p>She doesn’t know how to say the words. Not to Robin or Hercule, her closest friends. Or to Alana Dumbledore during their private lessons. Not even to Snape during detention.</p><p>Because they’ve never spoken, not in any real sense. The intimacy between them is heavy and complicated, built on insults and threats and dead bodies and morbid tokens. </p><p>Intimacy forged by an exchange of memories.  </p><p>But Holly does not know how to warn her to be careful. Does not know how to thank her or scold her. She does not know how to broach her anxiety about Slughorn. Or her worries about Voldemort, and the prophecy, and the Pensieve. She does not even know how to mention the textbook, though this should be easiest of all.</p><p>Holly sorts flobberworms in silence, too caught up in her own thoughts to do a proper job of it. </p><p>“Useless,” Snape tells her after a time, sneering at her work. “Here I thought you discovered new passion for Potions.” A flicker of <i>something</i> in the dark eyes. “Professor Slughorn is quite taken with you.”</p><p>Holly twitches despite herself, the ghost of a fingers tucking hair behind her ear. She does not want to think about Slughorn. “It helps to have a capable teacher.” Snape’s mouth twists, but before she can speak, Holly carries on. “The Prince has helped me loads.” </p><p>Snape blinks at her.</p><p>Hurriedly, Holly wipes her slimy hands on her robes. Snape watches this distastefully, but remains silent as Holly pulls <i>Advanced Potion-Making</i> out of her pocket. </p><p>“She’s brilliant,” Holly whispers nervously as Snape flips through the book. Holly is sure - so sure - that it’s her. That this is the book she saw in one of the woman’s memories. A sheet of oily hair hiding her work as she scribbled in the margins. </p><p>“Good of you to finally pay attention,” Snape says softly, handing the book back.</p>
<hr/><p>Intimate, reading the clever remarks, and corrections, and spells of a younger Severine Snape. That night, Holly curls up in bed with her book, smiling to herself as she reads. She pulls the news clippings out of her metal box and uses them to mark her favorite passages. </p><p>The three Death Eaters mark <i>Sectumsempra - for enemies</i>.</p><p>The Dursleys for <i>just shove a bezoar down their throats</i>.</p><p>Umbridge for <i>Langlock</i>.</p>
<hr/><p>Snape never notices Slughorn holding Holly after class to whisper in her ear. Or the hand that grazes her backside ‘accidentally’ at the Christmas party. Or the hand on her thigh during Slug Club dinners. </p><p>But she does see Carrie McLaggen knock her off of her broom.</p><p>And it is Snape Holly goes to when Robin ingests a love potion, not the potions master. </p><p>Snape does not see Holly high on Felix begging for a memory. Or Slughorn offering a trade. Or how quickly Holly’s manufactured luck fades away that night. </p><p>But it is Snape who arrives when Daria attacks her, and “<i>Sectumsempra</i>” slips from her tongue. Holly sicks up as Snape crouches down beside Daria. And she notes the hesitation. And she thinks, as Snape begins to heal the prone body, how pointless it is.</p>
<hr/><p>“You’re becoming more careless by the day, Potter.”</p><p>Holly glares mutinously at Snape’s back. Though she is no longer potions master, detention is in a Potions lab. The woman rants at her, but never mentions that Holly has charmed her quill to write her lines for her. Instead she says things like “from one puerile scheme to the next” and “increasing rashness in the face of peril”, calls her arrogant and stupid and more. </p><p>As if she’s the careless one, the rash one. </p><p>She is surprised when the chopping stops. Snape’s fist hits the tabletop, knuckles white, fingers clenched around her knife. The quill nudges the parchment to unroll further as Holly rises. Only when Holly brushes her fingers down her professor’s back does the hand relax. </p><p>“You are singularly the most foolhardy, self-destructive child I’ve ever met,” Snape seethes, back to chopping. The <i>click, click</i> of blade hitting table is soothing. Holly gathers the oily tresses in her hands, combing through them with her fingers. “And I’ve taught many a Gryffindor in my time, as you well know.”</p><p>“I’m an overachiever,” Holly agrees amiably. She begins to weave the long hair into a plait, eying the cauldron as Snape adds bits of flobberworm. The dark green liquid begins to lighten. She knows it will be chartreuse by the end. She knows this because of the items that awaited her when she arrived. A copy of the <i>Daily Prophet</i>, reporting three Hogwarts students who disappeared in Hogsmeade over the weekend. And with it a Quidditch badge, Vane’s favorite quill, and a silver ring. </p><p>When the plait is done, Holly slides her arms around Snape’s waist as she works. Holly cannot watch - she’d be lucky if she could peer over Snape’s shoulder on tip-toes - but this is just as well. She breathes in her warmth and wishes she knew what to say. </p><p>Thank you, maybe, though Holly never wanted anyone dead. Though she is ashamed of the warmth that bloomed in her chest when she saw tonight’s gifts. </p><p>Help me, maybe, thinking of Horcruxes and prophecy. And Slughorn. </p><p>Snape stirs her potion, then rests her hands over Holly’s. They stand in silence. Occasionally one hand leaves to add more ingredients, then to stir, but it always returns. And when Holly daringly presses a kiss to her spine, she does not expect Snape to feel it through the thick layer of robes, but the fingers tighten around hers. </p><p>“You forgot one,” Holly says after a time.</p><p>“I did not,” Snape replies irritably. “That was seven stirs exactly.”</p><p>“No. I meant Slughorn.” </p><p>Snape pauses. Holly doesn’t dare breathe. Already she regrets speaking up. She isn’t sure why now, after all this time. Especially with the risks Snape has already taken for her. </p><p>Strong hands grip her hands tightly before Holly can pull away. “Why do I need to worry about Horatia Slughorn, Holly?” </p><p>“You’re the spy, you figure it out.”</p><p>Snape twists around, both of Holly’s wrists bunched in one hand, the other roughly grabbing Holly’s jaw. She glares into Holly’s eyes, and Holly isn’t sure what she sees, only that fury softens to worry. The hands fall away, but Holly stands still, waiting, as Snape pulls out her wand and whispers, “<i>Legilimens</i>.”</p>
<hr/><p>It’s all there on the surface. Dumbledore’s disappointment and pressure. Slughorn’s touches, and her trade. And the memory - that awful memory. Her prize for letting Slughorn’s mouth and hands on her is to learn about <i>Horcruxes</i> - Voldemort and Horcruxes - and prophecy - and - </p><p>Shame. And guilt. </p><p>Pausing on her way back to her dorm to be sick.</p><p>Curling up in bed, crying silently into her pillow.</p>
<hr/><p>Crying silently in the cold of the dungeon as Snape turns away from her. “You need to leave now, Potter.”</p><p>“Wait. Please, I’m sorry,” Holly rasps. </p><p>“<i>Now</i>, Potter.” The voice is carefully blank and all Holly feels is cold.</p><p>“Severine, I -”</p><p>“<i>Go</i>!”</p>
<hr/><p>Holly does not sleep that night. Her stomach is a knot of anxiety. She thought Snape might be envious, and enraged, by Slughorn’s advances - by Slughorn’s success - but she had never envisioned it would turn Snape against her. She should have known. </p><p>And she had known all the while, as she laid very still, letting Slughorn take what she wanted, that it was wrong. It was wrong because Slughorn was her professor. And she was using sex in exchange for a memory. Trading her body for the war effort. And she was betraying Snape, the woman who loved her enough to kill for her. Betraying her, even if they’d never said a word about what it all meant. </p><p>And she was ashamed for it, because she didn’t want Slughorn. She wanted Snape. And though Slughorn’s touch had made her ill all year, her body had <i>responded</i> that night. Had liked how it felt, when she forgot who was touching her. </p><p>And now Snape knows the truth. And she won't want Holly anymore.</p>
<hr/><p>The next morning, Holly dares to hope. The Great Hall is abuzz with rumors. Slughorn had drunkenly ambled into the Forbidden Forest last night, singing at the top of her lungs. No, she had been chased into the forest, screaming for help. No, chasing a Death Eater into the trees, shouting out threats. </p><p>It is agreed that there had been noise, and Slughorn had gone into the forest, and search parties are sent out in search of her. And Holly dares to hope, but she does not dare look at Snape. </p><p>That night, the <i>Evening Prophet</i> reports the disappearance. Holly finds it under her pillow with a scrap of parchment reading <i>One down, one to go</i>, and a small pouch containing an eyeball.</p>
<hr/><p>Holly accompanies Dumbledore to fetch the Horcrux out of duty, much the same way she retrieved the memory from Slughorn. Because whether she likes it or not, she is the Chosen One, the Girl Who Lived. Someone had to defeat Voldemort, and it had to be her. </p><p>She wanted to tell Snape this, because she thought <i>one to go</i> meant Voldemort. Only she knew if she said this, the woman would be even more determined in her mission. </p><p>Only after the cave, when Holly Apparates into Hogsmeade with a weakened Dumbledore, they are met by Snape. And as Snape gets an arm around Dumbledore, helping move them towards the castle, Holly realizes. It was not Voldemort Snape meant. But Holly does not argue. Does not say anything. </p><p>Out of sight of the village, Snape drops Dumbledore to the ground. The old woman is gasping and confused as Snape summons the Pensieve from the castle. Holly fidgets as Snape stands there, wand raised, eyes on the castle. </p><p>This is Dumbledore, after all. The greatest living witch. The headmistress. Holly’s mentor. </p><p>The grandmotherly figure who left her on the Dursleys doorstep. Who never said a word of their mistreating her. Who never asked how Holly got the memory. Who, for all of her eyes and ears, never noticed what Slughorn was doing.</p><p>Never noticed, or never cared. </p><p>A great and powerful witch using a teenage girl to fight a war. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Professor,” Holly whispers as Snape breaks the stone basin with a spell. Holly does not know why she doesn’t use magic to smash the stone into Dumbledore’s head. Why she choses blunt physical force over a variety of spells. </p><p>Snape is red faced and shouting, “You took her! You took her!” And the motion of strong arms wielding their weapon looks like release. A release of all of the fear and anger Snape has suffered. </p><p>Suffered because of Holly.</p><p>Because she loves her. </p><p>There is brain matter, and bone, and blood in the grass. Dumbledore’s face is unrecognizable. The slab of stone falls to the side and Snape sways there, panting. Her fists clench and unclench at her sides. Holly watches her a moment. The rise and fall of her chest. The blood splattered face. The twitch in her eye as she scowls down at the corpse. </p><p>Holly stumbles forward, half trips over the body as she grabs Snape’s face and kisses her clumsily. She tastes blood, but Holly parts her lips for more, anyway. She digs her hands into ebony hair as she’s been dreaming of for over a year. </p><p>Snape is kissing her back, clutching her close, all of that excess energy pouring into her. Holly welcomes it. Drinks it in. A willing receptacle for all of that rage and violence and lust. </p><p>“Need to - hide the body,” Holly gasps between kisses. “Severine - you have to - run.”</p><p>“I’m not leaving you,” Snape growls as she presses her into the grass.</p>
<hr/><p>Dumbledore is seen returning to Hogsmeade in the early hours of morning, and is last seen heading to the restroom in the Three Broomsticks. No one knows where she went, only that she never returns. </p><p>But Dumbledore is secretive. Mysterious. Powerful. People wonder, but they do not worry. Not for a while.</p><p>A blackened index finger is added to the metal box. </p><p>And when the <i>Prophet</i> finally questions what has become of Alana Dumbledore, Holly cuts it out and opens the Prince’s book and marks the page titled <i>Amortentia</i>.</p>
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